looking in the direction of the window, and apparently quite unheeding the satirical remarks of the worthy Chairman. "The wind's roarin' amon' the trees as if a' the demons an' evil speerits o' the air had been let loose at ance by the Prince o' Darkness to terrify us puir bodies wi' their screechin' din an' eldrich screams; an' the snaw-flakes are flappin' an' dashin' against the shiverin' window-panes juist like a heart-broken lover in sorrow an' in pain, left alane to his hopeless fate by his cruel false one, noo left him for ever

"Very good," interrupted the Chairman; "but we want your song, Mr Miller.”

"Juist like him," said the Smith, with a triumphant leer in his waggish eye. "Nane kens better than himsel' what we're a' waitin' for. It's time his win'-bag was burst, at onyrate." A peal of laughter followed this well-timed repartee of the Smith, which, having somewhat subsided, the Miller indignantly rejoined—

"I'll match my ain native Dean wi' the drumley Kerbet ony day;" and immediately, in a fine tenor voice, very tenderly sang

MY AIN BONNIE DEAN.

Air-" Mrs Admiral Gordon's Strathspey."

Of a' the streams that gently flow
By moorland, strath, or den,
I love the Dean, meand'ring slow
Where dwells sweet Lizzie Glen.
She's dear to me as ane can be,

Love sparkles in her een;

Her voice sae sweet oft mingles meet
Wi' my ain bonnie Dean.

Sing by her cot, my bonnie stream,
Her charms sae rich and rare ;
Gay deck, wi' diamond jewels bright,
Her gowden tresses fair.
Then on thy bosom tenderly

Bring safe my bridal queen,

By gow'ny howe and broomy knowe,
Come thou, my bonnie Dean.

I carena for the winsome swains,
Nor each admiring e'e;

No a' their art, wi' dextrous dart,

Can wile her heart frae me.
Wi' lav'rocks liltin' in the lift,
An' linties by the green,

True, constant both, we'll pledge our troth,
By thee, my bonnie Dean.

In after days, when bairnies play
Upon thy hazel braes,

And Lizzie sings o' wedded joys,
While spreading out her claes,
The burden o' her sang will be,
While fond I listen keen-

"O, blessings rest the sweetest, best,

On thee, my bonnie Dean !"

A long ringing burst of general applause followed the singing of "Bonnie Dean," which having been suitably acknowledged by the Miller, the Student was next called upon for his anxiously-expected contribution to the evening's enjoyment.

"We'll get something noo," said the Laird, "that'll be worth the listenin' to, for as he and I cam' alang frae the glen thegither to the meetin' o' the Club the nicht, he wad scarce speak a single word, but keepit strummin' and hummin' awa' to himsel', as if he was either demented, or in a deep broon study wi' which nae ordinar' mortal was fit to entermeddle."

"But he's maistly aye that way," rejoined the Miller; "aye think, thinkin' awa' to himsel' fin he should be engaged in the conversation that may be goin' on, or else he juist runs in a minute to the other extreme. He's a perfect cameleonhe's never half an hour after the same thing."

"Grantin' yer premises are richt," said the more observant Smith, "yonr deductions are no soond. It by no means follows that because our young friend is reticent at one time and loquacious at anither, that he should therefore, or neces

sarily, be devoid either of high intellectual thought, or of a steady persevering will to carry his thoughts, whatever these may be to a definite and practical conclusion,"

"I agree entirely with our good friend the Smith," remarked the Chairman, "who has stated the case with his usual clearness and good sense

"The forester tells me, too," interruptingly persisted the Miller, "that if a wee bit birdie happens to gie a bit liltie, that nae ither body wid tak' the least notice o', the electrified Student will listen to it in rapture, as if it were an angel fae Heaven that sang upon the tree

"You do me by far too much honour," said the Student, quietly interrupting the Miller in his turn. "The light and shade of which you speak are the result of inward emotions implanted by the great Creator, doubtless to serve some useful and beneficent purpose hereafter. If I sometimes revel in a visionary land of golden dreams, surrounded by an atmosphere of melodious song, it is equally my delight to dwell with my fellow-men upon this fair and beautiful earth, and to exhibit as far as I can all the traits and feelings of an intensely human, tender, loving heart. But, dismissing this subject, as too personal for the present, permit me to say that I have noticed with great interest that the sentiments expressed in the songs you have so creditably sung to-night refer almost exclusively to the past: and, strange to say, I have unconsciously struck the same key-note in the verses which, with your leave, brother members, I will now read to you." Reads.)

THE DAYS O' LANGSYNE.

As in the gloaming's eerie calm,
'Midst fancies fleeting fast,

Our thoughts in unison revert

All fondly to the past,

So in the evening soft of life,

The scenes that brightest shine
Within our inmost heart of hearts

Are the days o' langsyne.

Now, as beside the fire I sit,
In my old rocking-chair,
Before the lighted tapers gleam,
Disclosing beauties fair,
How vivid come the visions blest,
Like sweet celestial dreams,
Of my own native valley-list!
The music of its streams.

The gowans, whins, the buttercups,
In all their beauty bloom,
The gowdies and the linties sing
Among the yellow broom.
Again I wander by the burn

That skirts the homestead dear-
My own loved home! can I conceal
The tributary tear?

No! gem with liquid silvery pearls
This roughly wrinkled cheek,
All fondly gushing from the heart,
Of life's bright morn they speak.

My father's manly form I see,

I hear my mother's voice,

And the rhymes of some old melody

Do now my heart rejoice.

How fresh the sough of wild-woods green
Plays round my raptured ear,

Recalling whisperings from afar

Of memories ever dear!

How clear the bleating of the sheep,

The lowing of the kine!

Alas! how dear, how very dear

The days o' langsyne.

The mill-wheel dashes round and round,

The miller spruce and gay,

The lads and lasses lilting loud,

I e'en as glad as they;

As, on the sunny knowe, beside

The tufts of golden broom,

'Midst songs of birds, soft hymns of streams

Wild flowers of richest bloom-

I sit and read the ancient lays
Of classic Greece and Rome,
Or sing with abbot, monk, and nun
Beneath cathedral dome;

Again the exulting soul is full

Of early memories,

All revelling blissful in the strains
Of ancient melodies.

The cherished odour of the fir,

Perfumes the mountain air,

The same glad hymn the lav'rock sings,
The uplands bloom as fair.

The ripening grain, so golden bright,

Is waving all around,

The brook runs lapping o'er the stones
With its ancient silver sound.

Lo! there in corner of the glen,
Beneath the shadow cool

Of hanging woods on Hunter Hill,
My own loved Airniefoul.

And here old Rover wags his tail,
In welcome at the style,

As from my pony I dismount,
And pat his head the while.

Or when from distant village school,

I come at eve's decline,

I hear his joyous bark as in

The days o' langsyne.